


Queen's Gambit

by Teaotter



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, promptfest vi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter works for the CIA. A different first meeting with Neal Caffrey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen's Gambit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> For Elrhiarhodan's Promptfest VI. Prompt: arrangment.

Peter sits quietly in the hard metal chair, waiting. The room is warm, but it looks cold – gray cinder block walls, a metal table bolted to the floor, two chairs with the table as a barrier between them. There is a standard white security camera in the corner of the ceiling.

For this meeting, Peter is wearing a brown corduroy jacket with elbow patches that precisely match his chocolate suede loafers. He knows he looks eccentric; but there are only three kinds of people who’ve ever visited Neal Caffrey – well-dressed insurance investigators hoping he’ll crack, well-dressed women hoping he’ll remember them fondly, and his attorney, an eccentric-looking man whose paper trail is so spotless it makes Peter’s instincts sit up and sing.

Only the attorney gets a private room, though, so that’s who Peter is today. He’s on the visitor’s list as Peter Lassen, private attorney. His credentials are significantly less sterling, but they’ll do.

The guard brings Caffrey in. The man looks nothing like his photo in the file; his hair is longer, and the orange jumpsuit does nothing to bring out the blue in his eyes. His skin is pale, and he barely looks up while the guard leaves. Caffrey looks… if Peter had to choose a word, he’d say the man looks defeated.

Not that Peter is stupid enough to trust first impressions of Neal Caffrey.

Once the door rings shut behind the guard, Caffrey looks up slowly. “You’re not my attorney.”

“They’ll let anyone in these days,” Peter says jovially, ignoring Caffrey’s down-trodden demeanor. “I’m Peter Lassen.”

“I doubt it.”

There is just a hint of a spark in the speed with which Caffrey answers. Peter holds in his grin. “You’d know, Mr. Caffrey. Or should I say, Mr. Cafferty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.” Peter sets his briefcase on the table, deliberately placing it so that Caffrey can see a flash of what’s inside. “And, of course, you haven’t bribed Mr. Porter in the mail room to bring you certain… supplies you’ll be using to leave this place shortly.

Caffrey’s eyes narrow for a moment, and Peter holds his breath. This is it; this is the moment when an asset either denies everything – or jumps right into the net.

When Caffrey sits up, his whole demeanor changes. Gone is the broken, defeated man who walked into the room. The man’s confident smile is practically a toothpaste ad, and Peter’s instincts twitch at the sudden shift.

“You caught me,” Caffrey says broadly, leaning back in his chair. “But correct me if I’m wrong – you don’t seem like the kind of man who’s planning on turning me in to the Warden, are you, Peter?”

“No, I’m not.” Peter lets himself smile this time. “In fact, I wish you all of the best, Mr. Caffrey. If you are re-captured by the FBI, I doubt if we’ll ever meet again.”

“That’d be a shame.” The voice is flirting, the smile unwavering – but Peter is sure the man is thinking as fast as he can behind that simple mask.

“Wouldn’t it?” Peter doesn’t mind flirting back; flirting with assets is often the easiest way to keep their interest. “But somehow, I don’t think you will. My agency would be happy to provide some assistance in that.”

“Your agency.” Caffrey doesn’t even blink. “And what agency would that be?”

“Does it matter?” Peter pulls a file out of his briefcase and pushes it across the table. “We need you to get close to this man.”

Caffrey opens the file, his gaze flickering across the pages. “Vincent Adler. Never heard of him.”

“That’s too bad.” Peter reaches to take the file back, but Caffrey doesn’t let go.

“What will you give me. If I help you?”

Peter is caught by those blue eyes, and though he knows he’s being played – he still thinks that’s the first honest question Caffrey has asked all afternoon. “We can help you find Kate Moreau.”

Caffrey’s face closes, but he doesn’t break eye contact.

Peter doesn’t, either. “Do we have a deal?” he asks pointedly.

Caffrey blinks first. “Yeah. We have a deal.”


End file.
